Walls Closing IN
by Finge sunt meliora
Summary: Added content from Lucie's POV, who's really struggling with her PTSD. Since she won't talk about it, all of the darkness form her time in the Army is starting to get to her. (rated T-M for slight language and hints to self harm) AU and you should probably read Ready to Make Nice first. Please read and review


Ready to Make Nice: Random Chapter

Lucie's POV

I wake up with a start. It's normal, but I can't help but be frustrated now that all I want to do is sleep. I roll out of bed, careful of my sore stomach and muscles. The house that John and I live in now is so foreign, still, I have to turn on the lights to navigate through the halls, not that our house is very big.

The sun is just peaking over the hills by the time I've finished making a cup of hot chocolate. Making my way through the kitchen I go to the back porch to sit in the cool air of the morning. The soft swing is a slight comfort to my still hazy mind.

_The screams of terror and gunshots still filled my ears. I couldn't escape the death of my past life. _

I never wanted to be what I'd become, _I hadn't set out to be a mass killer for hire._

When I signed up for the army I was expecting to do some good, create some peace with my ideas for our war ridden world. I was delighted when the position for a Special Forces Team Leader of an extraction team opened. The group of us thought that we would mostly be working in the Middle East and Africa, helping to free prisoners and slaves of war, but that's not really what happened.

_The feeling of warm blood splattering my face has never gone away; I still feel the sticky liquid of life on my hands. _

It was all my fault, I let them control my team too much. It wasn't originally my team. If many of our Lieutenant Colonels hadn't died in the bomb attack on our base camp I wouldn't have been moved up so fast. They said it was because of my level of thinking and how smart I was.

I know better; I was good at shooting straight and _never looking back__._

I was so ignorant and pleased for the opportunity to jump the ranks when it took soldiers an average of eight more years than it took me, that I didn't question my superiors. I didn't start to realize what they were doing until it was too late.

We were sent to South America, and that's when everything came crashing down. Deep in the Amazon jungle we were sent in to rescue a citizen. He was an oil company owner and he'd cheated some Saudi Arabian company and they took him. The higher ups were influenced by the money that was pouring in from the man in exchange for his saving. What a dumb fucker I was.

Why I just went along with what they told me, I don't know. Before that Amazon trip my heart kept telling me I needed to know more, but my head knew not to ask questions.

_I would never forget the looks on the young children's faces__._

Ben didn't tell us that this rich man had been taken to a small village of Native people. The Saudi Arabians had taken over the tribe's area under the radar. Our team manager at the time, Ben, hadn't told us that they hadn't just set up a random camp, that they weren't the only other people in the area. The Amazonians acted in self-defense and so did our team.

Killa special forces was not supposed to carry more than a hand gun, since there were actual front line soldiers trained for that purpose. The commander made the decision for us that it was kill or be killed and my team had to have more power.

_The screams of the women filled my ears. _

So many dead by my naïve hands, and I regret every minute of it. I wish that I could go back, stop the violence, save families from life times of pain. Of course that's not how life works, it can't.

"Finding myself to exist in the world, I believe I shall, in some shape or other, always exist". I believe in reincarnation and karma. I know that even though bodies were left in my wake they will be reborn to another worldly experience. I know my karma is bad and I won't be able to get it back, but every day that I live borrowed I will avenge their deaths.

I put my empty cup in the sink and walked aimlessly through the house. Going back to sleep was not an option, it wouldn't happen with my mind overflowing with muddled thoughts. I found myself in the mirror of the downstairs bathroom, looking haunted as ever- my eyes devoid of life.

_Why?_ Tears are streaking my face out of anger. The emptiness of that unanswered question filled my chest, I could hardly breathe around the lump in my throat.

_I don't deserve to cry._

The retched breathlessness is taking over my body; tarring my soul apart. I slide to my knees on the cold tile ground, my head feeling on the verge of explosion.

I tried to block it out, to silence my mind; _it was over and there's nothing that I can do about it now._

I keep choking on my emotions that are trying to finally come out, but I can't let them. They are no longer my right.

My knuckles become a stress relieving chew toy, as a last ditch attempt to quiet my sobs.

_Why the fuck can't I stop? Just shut the hell up!_

I itch at my wrists as hard as I can trying to will my familiar monsters away, but only succeeding in creating new marks of my inner struggle. The bright red marks trigger something in my brain.

_You fucking promised. _And promises were made to be broken.

I dug around for something sharp. John made me promise not to ever do it again, I wasn't planning on it when I had pinky swore. Things had gotten so much better. I wasn't dreaming as much, the dead bodies weren't haunting my every thought anymore.

The metal shined in the yellow light of the bathroom. I paused; _why had it come to this, what the fuck does this even mean?_

I finally take a good look at my right wrist. The scares of my attempts were only there if you look hard enough under my tattoo. Pinky Promise? Was written in John's small, neat hand writing right below the base of my hand. He paid for it once I had stopped drawing a blade across my skin in hate.

I cry even harder; my mind reeling. A swift kick in my stomach brought some happy memories back.

_Soft kisses at midnight. Siting under the stars on a blanket. The small black and white smudge on glossy paper. Squeals of laughter, running hugs. Warm whispers in my ear: We will find inner peace one day, Love, and we will find our happiness for forever._


End file.
